


Making the News

by littleblackbow



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-14
Updated: 2012-09-14
Packaged: 2017-11-14 04:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackbow/pseuds/littleblackbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rita and Draco have this terrible habit of waking up in the morning naked and in the same bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making the News

"Oh fuck."

"Unh… what?"

"Nothing. Go back to sleep." Rita gathered her clothes together and looked at the young man lying naked in bed as he wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

She pulled on her panties and put on her bra.

"Shit. What the hell?"

"Oh, darling, don't I know it," she murmured as she pulled on her skirt. "Don't worry. Nobody will see me when I leave."

"Fuck, I must have been completely bladdered last night," Draco said as he fished around under the covers for his pants.

"Don't worry about it, pet." Rita finished dressing and went back over to the bed. Draco glared at her through his messy platinum hair. "And no, this will _not_ be on the front page tomorrow."

"It had better fucking not be," he grumbled. "Or I'll…"

Rita waved her hand and rolled her eyes. "Mr. Malfoy, I am definitely not worried about what sort of idle threats you might toss at me. The point is that I make the news, and this," Rita waved her hand between the two of them, "is not news."

She grabbed her coat and shrugged it across her shoulders. "Nobody will find out about it, pet. Thanks for the toss, by the way."

With a light flourish, she tossed back her hair and disapparated.

\---oooOOOooo---

Normally winter was the ideal season for gossip. There were all kinds of society parties and soirees celebrating the season and the holidays. And, of course, every proud pure-blooded wizarding family held its own ball or fete.

This season, however, things were different. It had been years since the end of the war, yet nobody seemed inclined to celebrate in the old manner. With so many members of the older families in prison or on probation, it was as if everyone was being extra careful. Even Harry Potter, always a source of decent gossip, had settled down.

As a matter of fact, there was only one family that was worth watching at this point, and considering Rita's one night of involvement with the young heir, she wasn't likely to find any good news there.

"You do realize that you're under deadline and if you don't find some subject for your column, we'll have to assign it to someone else," Langston Patterson, editor of the Daily Prophet's society pages, told her.

Rita just glared at the man across his desk and raised an eyebrow. She adjusted her glasses.

"Fine," he said as he opened a desk drawer. He took out a small cream-colored envelope and tossed it out in front of her. "An invitation to the Parkinsons. Their daughter Pansy's engagement party."

A strange knot twisted in Rita's gut. Pansy was getting engaged? To whom? The last she'd heard, the Parkinson girl was still placing all of her bets on the Malfoy heir.

Sliding one perfectly manicured nail beneath the edge of the envelope, she opened it and pulled out the invitation.

"Theodore Nott?"

"Apparently. Not the most exciting family for news, but still, some important people might be there."

"Indeed."

\---oooOOOooo---

"Oh, fuck." Draco spied a familiar green satin suit from across the room and suddenly he felt far too queasy to finish his drink.

It was bad enough that Pansy was getting herself engaged to that idiot Nott, but to see _her_ skulking about was more than he was willing to put up with for tonight.

Apparently, his string of bad luck was attempting to strangle him, seeing as how Skeeter spotted him, as well, and was making her way toward him.

Now, no self-respecting Malfoy would even _consider_ running away from a social situation like this. It was completely undignified, tactless, and could end up as a sort of social suicide if the wrong people realized what he was doing.

Luckily for him, Draco had very little self-respect at this point. He was out the French Doors before she made it to the punch bowl.

Unfortunately, those French Doors led out onto a balcony.

With no other exit.

"Damn!"

"Young Malfoy Heir Runs Away From Guests At Engagement Party? I didn't think you had such disregard for the social niceties," Rita purred in a sardonic tone.

"Fuck you."

"Sorry, sweetheart, as tempting as that may be, I'm working tonight." Rita tucked her quill away in the tight French twist of curls at the back of her head and leaned back against the doors. "And I haven't had nearly enough to drink yet."

"What are you doing out here, then? If you're working, you should go back to the party inside. I'm sure the happy couple would love to answer a few of your questions," Draco spat back at her.

"Oh, I've already talked to them. They're so dry, they make the Sahara jealous." Rita moved over next to Malfoy. He looked so much like his father in the formal robes and with his long hair. "I'd much rather find out what you think of the match."

Draco shrugged. "She's the one who has to live with him for the rest of her life. And if her taste in men is that bad, I'm just glad I'm not the one who'll be saddled with her." Even with his acid tone, he couldn't disguise a little disappointment in his voice.

"She's not worthy of you," Rita told Draco, as she stared off into the darkness of the gardens. "After the first year, you'd get bored with her mindless prattle and endless social obligations." She wasn't exactly sure why she was trying to make Draco feel better. Maybe it was because she knew the pain all too well. Maybe because she saw so much more in this young man than most other people could ever know.

After standing in silence for a few moments, she pushed herself away from the railing. "Well, as you said, I ought to get back to the party."

"Yeah, just go."

"Don't sulk forever, darling. Give yourself some time to really think about this, and you'll see." Before she turned away, Rita gently rubbed Draco's back.

He'd hurt for a while - just as she had. The first few days were always the most difficult, though.

"Stop," Draco said as she reached for the door handle. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

\---oooOOOooo---

They say that after so many times of doing something, it becomes part of a regular routine. Generally, people apply that to healthful habits in their everyday lives. In Draco's case, however, he was more than just a little disturbed to find himself in the habit of sleeping with Rita Skeeter.

Sleeping with her. Not just having sex, but waking up in the morning with that head of soft curls slumbering on his shoulder.

Even more disturbing was the fact that he would often find himself petting back that hair, and tucking it away so he could see her face.

And kiss her forehead.

"Stop," she said softly in a scratchy morning voice. "You don't want to go there."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Rita rolled onto her back and took a deep breath. "Never mind."

She was magnificent lying there naked in the morning. As he watched the blood pulse through the veins in her neck, her chest rise and fall softly with each breath, he couldn't push the the memory of the sex out of his mind.

"Are You going home now?"

"Some of us work for a living, darling. Remember?"

"You're not going to write about…"

It had become another habit for Draco to ask her every morning, just to make sure she wasn't going to drag what was left of his name through the mud.

"It isn't news, sweetheart. Not only that, I honestly don't think any of my readers would give a rat's arse what this woman does in her spare time."

She got out of the bed and went on the now all to familiar hunt for her panties. "Not to mention the fact that it would most likely destroy my career. No. I won't be writing about you today. I suppose I'll just write up something irresistible and fascinating about whatshername Zabini and her latest husband. They're always good for a few inches, don't you think?"

Draco pushed himself up to a sitting position, carefully avoiding the sticky patch he'd forgotten to clean up in his post-coital high last night. He watched Rita dress with utter fascination, not missing a thing as she pulled up her panties, shrugged on her bra and deftly fastened it, adjusting the hair that tumbled down just past her shoulders.

Although Rita was older than him - old enough to be his mother, actually - she'd aged quite well. She had a youthful beauty that he could not deny. And between that pert little nose, and high cheekbones, she really had an amazing facial structure. As much as the rest of the world hated to admit it, she really was beautiful. Oh, not in a way that anyone could really point out, mind you. Her breasts may not have been as firm as some of the other girls he'd been with, and her skin was beginning to soften with age, but she made up for it in other ways.

For one thing, there was no hesitation. Rita knew what she was doing when she fucked. It always began with the most glorious foreplay - using her entire body to bring him to one of the most full and painful erections he'd ever experienced. The way she used her mouth, her breasts, her hands, stomach, and even feet brought out the most incredible feelings in him.

And when it came to the actual intercourse, he would swear up and down she had this ability to _squeeze_ him as he entered her. She'd urge him to slow down and experience every centimeter of every thrust. To feel all of the tender and soft folds inside of her.

Her gift of words while they were making love - and Draco had no doubt now that's what it actually was - was amazing. Rita would verbalize all of her wants and needs in this velvety smooth and soft voice as if she was a siren singing a song.

There was no way Draco could resist this. He wanted more. He wanted this all the time.

He got out of bed and went over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and placing a gentle kiss on the back of her neck. "Are you coming back tonight?" he asked before he could stop himself.

What the hell was he thinking, anyway? He couldn't possibly be—

"No. I have to work, and then there's some function at the Ministry. And who knows what's going to happen after that," she said in a cheerful tone.

"I see." Draco pulled away from her and began collecting his own clothes.

The silence between the two of them hung in the air while they both got dressed. As Draco buttoned up his shirt, he turned to face Rita again. "So, when are you—"

Before he could finish his sentence, she apparated away.

\---oooOOOooo---

The event at the Ministry was one of those pre-Christmas parties that were becoming more popular around the Wizarding world. Instead of having parties the week of Christmas, they'd get together weeks beforehand so the employees of the Ministry of Magic could spend more time with their families.

This was appreciated by some, but lamented by others. Rita supposed it all depended on how well you liked your family.

As she made her way around the main hall, where most of the people were gathered, she noted that some of the lower-level employees had brought guests with them. Actually, there was no way of distinguishing the gate-crashers from the guests at this point.

She smiled at that thought. It would certainly make for news if there were any undesirables hanging about.

Rita skirted along the tables, looking for familiar faces. She briefly made eye-contact with Kingsley before he was pulled away by Percy Weasley. Marietta Edgecombe was there, chatting with one of the Creevey boys. For the life of her, she could never remember which one had survived the war.

Finally, her eyes caught a flash of platinum blond hair. "Lucius," she whispered to herself. He was dressed in all of his finest robes, looking impeccable with Narcissa standing at his side. Rita was a little surprised to see him here. After all, he wasn't as highly ranked in the Ministry as he used to be, and generally he wasn't one to participate in these sorts of functions.

However, she was even more surprised when Draco came up along his other side and stood next to his father. The younger man was slightly taller than his father, and the more she looked at the two of them together, the more she realized how different they were. Certainly, they shared some of the same features, but Draco's face was more understanding, and generally more amiable.

The idea flashed in her mind that he was not his father, and suddenly, she felt ill.

"Oh, God," she said softly as she turned away from the family. Hoping that she wasn't spotted, she headed off in the opposite direction - toward the door leading to the North Wing.

"Wait! Rita," Draco called after her. "Where are you going?"

Rita exited the party and paused on the other side of the door, waiting for him to follow her. Why she ever got involved was becoming quite a mystery to her.

"Why did you leave?"

"I have my story. I'm going home to write."

"But--, this is not the way out, Rita. There aren't even floos in this wing."

She heard the click of the lock on the door, and felt a silencing charm fall over them.

"Please, don't," she said softly, as she felt him come up behind her.

"Why not? I like you. Oh, right, I know I probably shouldn't. Hell, there's no reason for me to. Other than the fact that you're shrewd, intelligent, utterly ruthless, and somehow still spoil me. Oh, and you're also gorgeous and a brilliant shag. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Don't even try that with me, hon. I'm too old to be playin--"

Draco pulled her around to him and kissed her. They'd fallen into bed together how many times now? And he'd never, _never_ kissed her. It was one of their unwritten rules, or so it seemed.

Somehow the kissing made this strange relationship more poignant. It felt as if there were more emotions behind it, and brought it to an entirely different level.

After a few moments of losing herself, Rita pushed away. "No, don't!" She took a few steps back and glared at the young man. "Don't you _dare,_ Draco Ignatious Malfoy. Don't... don't you _dare_ ," she breathed.

Draco didn't follow as she pushed past him, through the doors.

\---oooOOOooo---

It was Monday before Rita heard any word from young Malfoy again. She was at the offices of the paper, trying to sniff out some event to attend to Christmas Eve when the owl arrived. Had it not been for the fact that her editor was standing there, not two desks away, when the giant, majestic bird dropped the gilded envelope gently and lightly into her hand, she might have attempted to hide the damn thing.

"You're going," Patterson said, pointing at the envelope. Only one family used stationery and envelopes envelopes like these. And they hadn't held a Yule ball or dinner party on their family estate in at least three years.

Rita opened the envelope - addressed specifically to her - and pulled out the small white card contained within.

_Mr. Draco Ignatious Malfoy requests your presence  
At Malfoy Manor on Wednesday, the twenty-fourth of December  
To Celebrate Christmas Eve with the Malfoy Family._

_Dinner will be served at seven._

Down near the bottom of the invitation was a hand-written line:

_Don't disappoint me, Rita. ~Draco_

"You're going," Patterson said again as he came up to her and sat on the edge of her desk. "That's Malfoy's crest and signet. You're going to that - whatever it is - and you'll report on what that family's been doing with itself for the past three years, or you'll find all of your things sitting out in the front lobby."

As he slid off her desk and made his way toward his own office, she could hear Patterson muttering something about the readers eating it up.

Rita looked down at the card in her hand. The boy was like his father in some ways, but in many others he was so very different. Had she known, the night of the first time they fell into bed together, that history would turn around and threaten to repeat itself in such a blatant and obvious way, she might have reconsidered that fifth shot of firewhiskey. Or the champagne. Or Claret cup.

"Oh, Gods, how do I do this to myself," she moaned as she flipped the invitation over in her fingers. " _I_ make the news. The news is not created around _me_."

Rita twirled around in her chair and stared at one of the other reporters. "What are you looking at? Isn't there a fire or a flood or a dark lord somewhere that you can cover?"

\---oooOOOooo---

Although many of her readers might have been interested in the dynamics and full play of the dinner engagement and following party, as it came to pass, nothing was ever published about that night. Not that there wasn't anything newsworthy that happened, but due to a string of unfortunate turns, one after another, Rita found herself at home on Boxing Day, unemployed, and with such a slim chance of ever being hired again that it wasn't even worth mentioning.

The quick and easy explanation of what happened had come down to the simple fact that Lucius Malfoy had found out.

And how.

Her arrival at Malfoy Manor caused a few raised brows, but it was merely assumed that somehow she had procured an invitation by rather under-handed means, and it was not worth making front page news over.

She was seated across from Draco, just down the table from Narcissa, and between Horace Slughorn and Theodore Nott. Pansy, of course, sat next to Draco, and directly across from her fiancé.

There were other guests there, but they might as well have not existed after Theodore asked the question that changed the tone of the entire evening.

"So, Draco, I noticed you left our engagement party early. I was wondering where you might have gone off to?"

"I had things to do. What does it matter to you, Nott?" Draco spat back.

"At least you seem to have drawn unwanted attention away from us, darling," Pansy cooed, not once glancing at the particular "unwanted attention" across the table from her.

"Stuff it, Parkinson," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Oh, yes? What kind of attention would that be?" Slughorn asked, attempting to just make more of this seemingly idle dinner conversation.

"I have no idea," Rita sang back to her. "As far as I could tell, there wasn't really anything important happening anyway. Certainly nothing scandalous or worth writing about."

Pansy glared at Rita. Draco smiled at Rita. Theo caught both looks. "Aaah, so you went off with Rita, did you?" He asked in what might have been a joking way.

"Oh, really?" Slughorn asked, suddenly interested in this turn in the conversation. "One must appreciate the irony in that, mustn't one? Still, like father like son, I always say. Especially when it comes to women!"

Rita wasn't sure who dropped their fork first, but after an initial crash of cutlery, perhaps a wine glass or two, the entire room fell silent.

Narcissa glared daggers at her husband.

Draco stared in a blank panic at Rita.

Rita stared in a blank panic at Draco.

Pansy smiled in the most catty way.

Nott's jaw dropped to his chest.

Slughorn looked clueless.

Lucius glanced between Draco and Rita, his look cold and calculating as he carved out another bite of goose.

The next day, Christmas morning, Rita was awakened by an owl that carried a note dismissing her from her position as a writer for the Daily Prophet. Two hours later, her book editor sent her a letter regretfully informing her that progress must be stopped on her latest work of non-fiction.

"Happy Christmas, Rita, you've been blacklisted!" she toasted to herself as she sat alone in her home watching the snow fall outside.

\---oooOOOooo---

There's always been that strange period of time between Christmas and New Year's Even when almost nothing ever happens. Well, nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. There are no parties, no shopping events. Nobody is talking about anything else, and in general, it's a sort of purgatory of Winter.

And it was even worse when you were in the prime of your life and unemployable.

Over the past few days, Rita had come to grips with her situation. Yet again, Lucius Malfoy had all but destroyed her. He'd taken away her opportunity at love and security, and...

... the tumbler of firewhiskey dropped from her hand.

Love.

He'd taken away her chance at love. With his son. With Draco. That night at the Ministry, he was trying to tell her, and she wouldn't let him. She wouldn't let him because then she would have to admit a thing or two about herself, and she just couldn't... _wouldn't_ allow herself to fall into that trap again.

And yet, she had fallen. He was young enough to be her son, but she'd fallen.

Rita's hands came up to her face, covering her mouth as if that would hold back the inevitable sobs. "Oh God," she prayed as she sat on her sofa. "Oh God, please, not again."

\---oooOOOooo---

Rita was actually writing on New Year's Eve when the knock came at her door. It was mid-morning, and she was still in her night-dress and heavy robes.

"Who the Dickens could that be at this ungodly hour?" she asked as she tightened the robe around her waist.

Most likely it was another messenger informing her that her information and curriculum vitae would be removed from their permanent files, and they were not likely to re-open submissions anytime soon.

Or perhaps it was another solicitor coming on behalf of another client who had been misrepresented in one of her columns, cordially informing her that charges would be pressed as soon as the offices were open again after the holidays.

Or it could be...

"Draco," she whispered as her mind registered just who it was standing before her in her doorway.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Erm, I... of course. Of course. I was just-- well, I'm afraid I don't have anything to offer you in terms of tea or coffee or..."

"I'm not here to drink anything Rita. I - I came to see how you were doing."

Rita nearly laughed at the irony. "Oh, me? I'm fine. Just taking some time off from the Prophet to work on a book. See? Everything's all laid out there and ready to go."

Draco craned his neck to see past her to the desk filled with sheafs of papers, all of which had that familiar blue tinge from the civil suit offices in the Ministry.

"I see," he said softly.

"I don't think you do," Rita replied.

"No."

"There's nothing you can do, Draco. I know it wasn't you. Your father always had this horrible mean streak to him. He cannot stand humiliation, and I have no doubt he would cast an Unforgivable on someone simply for embarrassing him in public." She walked over to her desk and straightened out a few of the stacks of legal papers. "I think he's taking it easy on me due to our past entanglements."

Draco unhooked the clasp on his cloak and laid it over the nearest chair. "Rita, I know why he's doing this to you, and I know how, and I know that you don't deserve a bit of it. And actually, that's why I'm here.

"My father is an idiot. He tosses his power around 'cause he can. Not for any purpose other than that. And... and I'm really glad he is."

Rita spun around. She hadn't intended to show the hurt on her face, but the way he was speaking, it was almost as if he condoned his father's actions.

"No, I'm very glad," Draco said as he marched up to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Because if he had kept you-- If he'd married you and not my mother..." That familiar smug grin crept across Draco's face. Sure he wasn't as young as he had been when she first witnessed it, and it looked just the slightest bit out of place on this grown man, but in some ways it made him even more enticing than ever.

"Don't you dare say it, Mr. Malfoy. If you get all mushy on me, I'll toss you out on your ear."

"I wouldn't think of it, Miss Skeeter. After all, what would the papers say in the morning?" Draco backed off and released her. "I digress. See, you've got me all distracted again. Stop that. I'm trying to do something important here."

He cleared his throat and went back over to his cloak. "Okay, so, the way I see it, you're in love with me." Rita opened her mouth to protest, but Draco held up his hand, and she really didn't have the words for him, anyway. "No, it's a good thing, because if this was one-sided, I'd be really angry. So, with you being in love with me, and my father making your life a living hell, there's only one thing I could think of to fix this whole situation and prevent too much embarrassment and pain."

Rita just stood there and tried to keep the smile from her face.

"You see, he's set this whole thing up so that he's the only one who can fix it. Personally, I don't even know what kinds of strings he's pulling at this point to cover your desk with lawsuits there. The way I see it, _he_ needs to be the one to fix it, and as far as I can think, there's only one way of making him do that," Draco continued.

One thing that could never be denied a Malfoy was this utter control over the silence in a room. He turned to face Rita again, with the look of a cat that just ate the mouse. "You're going to marry me. Do you believe _that_ would classify as news?"

\---oooOOOooo---


End file.
